


From Serbia with Snark

by Orangistae



Category: James Bond (Craig movies), Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Bondlock, Episode: s03e01 The Empty Hearse, Gen, Q is a Holmes, a furry Russian ear-hat, it's an ear-hat, ushanka
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-16
Updated: 2014-01-16
Packaged: 2018-01-08 21:34:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1137629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Orangistae/pseuds/Orangistae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bond gets into trouble in Serbia and makes a new acquaintance. Set shortly before The Empty Hearse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	From Serbia with Snark

**Author's Note:**

> Mycroft works with MI5 in my headcanon, and I refuse to change it post-HLV.
> 
> This is my first fic, so any comments would be greatly appreciated :)

Bond awoke to find himself lying on the ground. His head throbbed painfully and he was covered in scrapes and bruises, although nothing seemed to be broken. His Walther was gone, along with his coat, shirt and shoes, leaving him with only his trousers and a dirty woollen blanket that had been thrown over him. He raised his head and took stock of his surroundings: a small cell with bare concrete walls, dimly lit through the grille of a metal door, with a high, barred window that revealed a sliver of night sky. There was a guard pacing up and down the corridor outside, and Bond could hear a repetitive rasping noise that he identified as some type of electronic music leaking from the man’s earphones. Groaning, he tossed aside the blanket and pushed himself up into a sitting position.

«Bond!» Q’s voice exclaimed in his ear, momentarily startling him; evidently his captors hadn’t noticed the earwig. «You’re awake?»

“Mph.”

«Can you talk? Tell me what happened.»

“They caught me trying to break in,” Bond murmured under his breath. “Knocked me out and threw me in some sort of holding cell.”

«Are you hurt?»

“A few bruises, nothing serious. Although I wouldn’t say no to an aspirin,” he said, wincing slightly as he rubbed the back of his head.

«Well, you’ve only yourself to blame,» Q huffed. «I did tell you that this little side trip was unnecessary. You’d already fulfilled the parameters of your original mission.»

Bond frowned incredulously at the wall in front of him. “You’re not serious, are you? Everything leads back to Maupertuis, he’s planning something big- taking out one wing of the operation and leaving the rest intact would have been worse than useless. Of course I had to follow it up.”

«Understood, but... Look, Bond, this might get messy.» 

“Yes, it usually does when people try to lock me up,” he said, trying to ignore the note of tension in Q’s voice, “but I’ll try not to leave too many casualties.” 

Q started to say something, but trailed off without forming any words. It was unlike him, and Bond found it unsettling.

“What’s wrong?” he demanded. “What aren’t you telling me?”

Q let out a sigh. 

«I was hoping it wouldn’t come to this, but...»

“Shh,” Bond hissed, as he recognised the noise of approaching footsteps, at least two pairs, followed by the jangle of keys outside his door. It swung open.

“Ustaj!” commanded a man in the doorway, and he motioned with his shotgun, an MKA 1919 semi-automatic. 

_Stand up,_ Bond mentally translated.

«Do as he says, Bond, and don’t. Try. Anything. Are we clear?» 

He gave a quiet grunt of acknowledgement as he got to his feet, and stood passively while a second man entered the cell and bound his hands behind his back.

“ _Walk._ ” 

The two of them marched Bond through a series of dank passages, ending up in what seemed to be an interrogation room, harshly lit, where another two men were waiting for them. One was bald and wore a T-shirt that exposed his tattooed biceps; ex-Navy, apparently. He smiled humourlessly at Bond. The other man was sat on a low stool and wore a heavy coat and an ushanka with the ear flaps down, so that only his face was exposed. He paid no attention to Bond, but gave his escorts a curt nod. They immediately set about untying his wrists and then fastening them into a pair of shackles that were attached to chains hanging down from opposite walls, so Bond was forced to stand in the middle of the room with his arms outstretched. He leaned on the chains as if for balance, testing the amount of slack and working out how much reach he had. 

His escorts exchanged a few words with Hat-Man, and left.

“ _Okay, let’s start,_ ” Hat-Man said, waving a hand at Baldy. 

«Bugger,» Q muttered. «Remember, don’t try anything stupid. Nothing unless I tell you.»

Bond obediently gritted his teeth and remained still, as Baldy walked up and punched him heavily in the gut.

“ _Who are you,_ ” he demanded. It wasn’t really a question; he didn’t leave time for a reply, even if Bond had intended to give one, before following up with a cuff to the jaw. “ _What are you doing here?_ ”

«Tell him you were looking for an umbrella. Kišobran.» 

“ _I was looking for an umbrella,_ ” Bond repeated, spitting some blood from his mouth.

Hat-Man appeared to notice Bond for the first time, glancing sharply at him before reverting to his previous attitude of detached boredom. Baldy just frowned and reached for a length of pipe that lay against the wall.

“ _You think this is funny? I’ll show you how funny this is._ ”

He hefted the pipe in his hands, preparing to swing it at Bond’s chest, when an alarm started going off somewhere in the building. Bond inwardly thanked Q. Baldy paused, and looked inquiringly at Hat-Man.

“ _Go and see what it’s about,_ ” he said, jerking his head towards the door. “ _I can look after the prisoner._ ”

Baldy glared threateningly at Bond, but set down the pipe and stalked out of the room. Bond watched warily as Hat-Man stood up and approached him, stopping at what he probably thought was a safe distance. Bond tensed, ready to strike as soon as Q gave the go-ahead.

Hat-Man smirked. 

“Mr Bond, I presume?” he asked in English, a public school drawl with no trace of foreign accent. “Please advise your Quartermaster that he really must learn to take better care of his pets.” 

Bond stared at him. 

«Never mind, I heard,» Q grumbled. «Tell him to put his earwig in and stop being such a drama queen.»

“He says to put your earwig in. Er. Did you just call me-”

“Of course,” the man said, with a gracious nod. “One moment.” He took off his ushanka and reached into his coat to pull out an earwig. It was identical to the one Bond was wearing himself.

“He’s one of ours?” Bond growled. “Q, why didn’t you just tell me we already had an agent in here?”

«He’s not an agent.» 

“No, I haven’t your flair for fieldwork, Mr Bond,” the not-agent said. “Merely a civilian. I have a small matter to take care of here in Vranje, and your Quartermaster kindly agreed to assist me, as a personal favour.”

Bond narrowed his eyes. A personal favour? Who the hell was he, if not an agent, that Q had helped to place him undercover in a Serbian crime ring? Not a friend, surely- this man, with his smug expression and prim manners, didn’t seem like someone Q would voluntarily associate with, even if he didn’t spend most of his waking hours at work. 

Suspicion began to dawn on Bond as he examined the man more closely. A little older than himself, tall and lightly built in spite of a small paunch, with angular features and receding waves of dark brown hair...

“Oh, Christ. You’re Q’s father.”

The man pursed his lips. 

«I know your memory’s failing, Bond, but I have told you before that I’m not actually a teenager,» Q said drily. «This is my brother, Mycroft.»

“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Mr Bond. I’d offer to shake hands, but you seem to be tied up at the moment.”

“Your brother?” Bond relaxed slightly. “Well, that’s a relief. I wouldn’t want to meet the parents looking like this,” he said, rattling his chains as he gestured vaguely at himself. “I haven’t shaved in days.” 

«This is highly confidential, of course- moreso than usual. I’ll have to edit these recordings, but I suppose I can trust you to keep quiet, Bond?»

He hesitated. Q had broken rules for him on more than one occasion, and Bond literally trusted him with his life, but...

“I can assure you that the business which brought me here is entirely in the service of Queen and country,” Mycroft said, dropping his ironic tone and looking gravely at Bond. “If you were wondering.”

«It really is. I’d never cooperate with him for anything less.»

Bond considered for a moment. 

“Maupertuis?”

“Is being dealt with. The Baron and his schemes will be of no further concern to you or anybody else.”

«Well, Bond?»

He shrugged in acquiescence. “Alright.” His instincts told him that Mycroft was sincere; when he wasn’t being such a pompous git, he reminded Bond of Mallory. “As long as you can get me out of here.” 

Mycroft frowned. 

“You do realise that I can’t simply release you and send you on your way. I can’t risk compromising my cover before my business has been concluded.”

“I could rough you up a little,” Bond suggested, grinning. “Make it look like I overpowered you? Which I could, you do realise.”

“Nor would it do for my... _superiors_ to think me incompetent.” 

«He’s right, Bond, now’s not the time,» Q put in. «Besides, I don’t even have any visuals. But seriously, Mycroft, I want him back in one piece. And the Walther, too, he’s already lost three of them this year.»

“You always were so possessive,” Mycroft sighed. “I suppose that, if we were to receive urgent information that one of our other detainees was in fact a foreign spy and needed to be questioned immediately, then Mr Bond’s interview could be rescheduled. Say oh-five-hundred? He’ll be in Goran’s custody then- awful man.”

«Fine. And the gun?»

“His personal effects can be retrieved from the cupboard in the storeroom at the end of the corridor. I assume you received the building plans?”

«Looking at them now. B26?»

“Yes, that’s right. It won’t be locked.”

«Alright, Bond and I can take care of the rest. Let me know if they update the security password.»

“Of course.”

Bond blinked. “Wait- you’re going to access their security systems by asking your brother for the password?”

«Yes, Bond, do keep up.»

“Now, is that everything?” Mycroft asked. “As pleasant as this little chat has been, I can’t spend all of my time cleaning up after you two, and I expect that my colleague will be rejoining us shortly.”

«Yes, Mycroft, that will be all. Please don’t make me regret telling Bond not to hurt you.»

“Very well. Doviđenja, baby brother; you can tell Mummy that we’ll be back soon.”

«Will do. Goodbye, Mycroft.»

With that, Mycroft removed his earwig and tucked it back into his coat. He eyed the ushanka with distaste before placing it back on his head, sighing dramatically.

“The things I do for family.”


End file.
